Eye Opener
by kallmered
Summary: Harley Quinn- minor criminal by night- meets The Joker on the outside. Only to find out he's been admitted within Arkham, where she works by day. She can't let the opportunity pass to evaluate him. But is she getting herself in too deep, being so close?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

Don't Call Me Blonde!

It was late in gotham city, with the typically good run of constant heists and kills, the usual mayhem. But he'd begun to lose his seemingly endless energy by the fifth day of his gangs non-stop crime spree.

But he was having so much fun, how could he just stop!? The Joker doesn't get _tired_. At least no one would that know it but him, and even his own body had to fight his iron will if he desperately needed to rest or eat. No, he was simply too manic to care.

So, inevitably, The Joker had been running on nothing but stolen coffee and the occasional beer from unsuspecting passersby and pure adrenaline. So, yeah, maybe he could chalk up his uncharacteristically mellow blink as a small woman literally eapt out of the alleyway in front of him.

He wasn't sure why she hadn't sparked an ounce of annoyance, but he believed it was because of his utter exhaustion catching up with him. He'd taken out half of his clowns along the way, and only the handful of men who'd been there at the beginning of the week were feeling as tired and slow as their leader. The rest of the clowns were ridiculously new. And stupid.

So while he was willing to brush over the near impact by the oblivious, albeit treny little woman who was standing on the sidewalk...his lackeys, did not.

"Hey, you bitch!"

"Watch the hell out!"

Before he could yank out his gun and shoot, he had to turn and face the idiot assholes who thought they could run the show. But as he did, he spotted her very clear and wide smile and he could not stop his own grin from springing upon his own scarred lips.

She was a tiny thing, short in stature and delicate looking, but she fit the red and black leather suit _oh sooo_ _well_. And the little belled jesters hat that covered her head and neck..._Oh_, don't get him started.

She continued to smile, blue eyes lively and sly, as she tugged out a red ear bud from one side of the hat. When she looked back up to the two men who'd spoken, her eyes became icy and held a sudden look about them, as if she was about to get blood on her hands and she knew it.

"Sorry boys, didn't hear ya. What were you saying?" she said, though it was obvious she had heard them.

The were about to foolishly suck in a breath and repeat themselves, but two sudden zips from the silencer in the Joker's hand had the woman laughing.

"Well, at least somebody in Gotham still has manners." she said. "Thanks." she said and looked back into the alley she'd sprung from. "Johnny!" she yelled suddenly.

A small man with sunken eyes emerged from the shadows with a sneer, carrying a ripped up potato sack in his hand and a duffle bag that clinked with the sound of glass. "I _really_ hate you."

"Oh come on, you know you don't." she said, feigning hurt.

"This is no way to transport my toxin!" the brown-haired man shouted.

The Joker stood on the sidelines now, with a dark grin on his face, before he shot his unsilenced gun in air to gain attention.

The couple before him frowned and looked back at the increasingly annoyed man. "_Hi_." he said, his voice eerie. "Move out of the way." It wasn't a question.

It was now that Crane recognized the man in front of them with the weird clown goons nearby. "God, woman, did you even realize you jumped in front of The Joker?" he said and pulled on her arm off of the cement to stand in the street.

"Hm?" She looked back to man with makeup and the scars with a tiny grin that sprouted up, then back to Crane. "Well..._duh_. Who doesn't?"

"You're so blonde." The small man hissed and in an instant, the hundred and ten pound woman yanked roughly on his shirt collar, sprawling him out over the pavement.

"_Blonde!_" she shrieked. "That's the last straw, you stupid ass! If I'm so god-damned _blonde_, why did you ask for my help, huh? And you needed me to get your damned toxins. 'Oh I'm so lost with out my life's work,'." she mocked with a sneer and slammed her sharp heel into his side. "Go roll over in an alley and wack off, you jerk." The woman leaned down, and grabbed his chin with red and black nails that were well kept and rounded. "Don't you dare say a word about me." she hissed, "Or I'll tell the cops where the rest of your toxin is."

She spun on her boot-heel, the outline of her ass and slim legs shinning in the black and red leather as she stepped away, which had captured the Joker's otherwise asexual interest. But his eyes had followed her, and they still hadn't moved forward down the walk yet.

Running again on adrenaline, he whistled through his teeth, and watched her stop and look over her shoulder with a frown. She wasn't happy.

"So uh, _doll_, why the long face?" he stifled a snicker at his words.

"Well, I was hoping to have some real fun. Johnny boy over there...well..." She trailed off, letting the disappointment in her voice linger. "He's no clown."

She nearly slapped a hand over her mouth in fear, but she shoved Harleen back down and told herself she could hold her own against him. After all, she'd gone to defense classes and karate religiously over the past year in retaliation of the trauma she'd experienced. She wasn't going to cower, damnit!

She shoved down the clawing, choking fear that was threatening to squeeze her throat shut in another fit of an anxiety attack, but she wouldn't let it happen again. _I need all my guns here to keep him happy..._

"What'd you say, doll?" he hissed and creeped closer, clicking a knife out and she spun around fully, leaning on a hip provocatively.

"Well, I said Johnny's no clown."

He was right in front of her, his eyes dark and shockingly a deep green. _Oooh_, she was a sucker for green eyes.

They seemed to devour her for a moment before he broke out into a grin and his previously normal- ignoring scars- good looks erupted into full on handsome. She'd never expected the Joker to be such a good looking man.

Sure she'd seen newspapers about his recent escapades with Dent and Batman, but the photographers never could seem to catch a still photo, causing them to look demonic and dangerous. As if he knew they were trying to take pictures and he just had to piss them off.

But back to the man of the hour...

He was laughing, pressing his fingers into his eyes as he hopped from foot to foot in a mad dance. "Oh, you are just too _much!_" he said suddenly, all his laughter gone but not his grin. "Don't worry, hon, Crane is just a low and er-_common_ criminal compared to me. If you were going to say, come with me...it'd be um-rather eye opening." he finished his words on a growl that sent little shivers down her back, and she watched him lick his lower lip swiftly, as if it was a tick.

"Huh." she breathed out breathlessly. "Well," she said, "I think I might like to have my eyes opened up a little bit, but not yet. Soon." she added quietly, hoping he understood her. She didn't want to become another one of his many hostages on the morning news.

"Later then, doll." he sang, and pulled her close suddenly. "And don't worry about a erm-_phone number_ I'll find _you_." he said darkly in her ear

She didn't release her sigh of relief until after he'd turned around in that slightly hunched way he seemed to go about some things. She snickered behind her rigid fist, determined not to bring attention to herself. But her eyes widened when he spun around and winked at her with a dangerous grin before snarling at his lackeys. Then they disappeared down the foggy sidewalk.

_What did we get ourselves into Harleen? _She thought, allowing a little bit of the trembles to spread over her skin beneath her suit. _Too close....hope I made a good impression._

_--------------------_

_Hello, this is my first Batman fiction, but not my first fic. I hope you all find Joker a little bit believable. I'm going about a slightly different approach for Harley and Joker's relationship, and I hope I don't disappoint. Thanks so much, and you'll all know why she was teaming up with Crane soon._

_ -ciao  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello, I hope you are going to enjoy this chapter. It shows a little bit more about what Harley is really like, and it sort of shows that there is Harleen, who she is trying to push herself into the corners, and Harley who is blunt and knows what she wants. enjoy!  
_

Chapter 2: You Underestimate Her

She was munching on Lucky Charms from the box as she sat on the couch watching the morning news, complete coffee in her sugar sitting on the side table. Harleen sighed as the monotonous male anchor talked about the children of Wayne Elementary School and their little play that she could have honestly given two shits about.

"Don't have kids." she hissed and looked down at her tortoise-shell cat, Hellion, as he clawed the extensive marks in her coffee table again. "I guess you could be called a kid. A damn annoying one." she snarled and the male cat looked up at her, in the eerie way cats did, and attacked her table with renewed fervor.

Resolved in her defeat, Harleen pulled her long hair from her shoulder to the back pillows of the couch. She was taking a sip of her coffee when the female anchor with too much make-up began speaking in a serious yet upbeat voice.

"_Breaking news, in Gotham now, as we just received reports that infamous criminal, The Joker, was captured last night in the Narrows caught robbing yet another pawn shop after his week long crime spree, costing the city millions in damages and countless hours of work for the Gotham Crimes Division. _

_Commissioner Gordon stated very few details when asked about the criminal's spree, but he says The Joker put up a 'reasonable fight', killing three officers before he was taken to Arkham Asylum, where he will be evaluated----"_

After Harleen sprayed coffee all over her table, including Hellion who clawed her hand swiftly in return, she stared dumbfounded at the television. "My god...are you serious?"

"_In other news..."_

With renewed energy, Harleen drowned out the inane drawl of the male anchor and leapt from the couch. She ran to her bedroom to begin getting ready for work at light speed.

It was Harley, not Harleen, who stepped out of the small townhouse that morning, and it was Harley who started up her trendy Accord and sped all the way to Arkham Asylum.

oooo

Harley stepped down the long hallway, riled and ready to fight her superior for the job. She'd been here for two years, damnit! It was time she was allotted a _real_ patient to treat...it had nothing to do with the fact that she'd met the new ward on the outside just last night. No, she was more than that.

"Joan!" she barked as she practically kicked open the older psychologist's door in.

"Good morning, Dr. Quinzel." the woman replied with a knowing smile. "I see you've heard about our _new_ arrival." Harley didn't hear the joke underlay the woman's tone.

"Of course." Harley replied dryly. "Please...don't make me beg Joan. This would be the absolute highlight of my measly and uneventful career."

Although Joan did not think so, she did not bother correcting her subordinate. "Well, I just so happen to be quite busy at the moment, and I do feel like you're highly able to continue working with the big time criminals. Ivy seems to be doing much better since you've started working with her."

Harley, doing a victory dance in her head, smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Joan."

"You are obviously allowed to prescribe and reduce his medication as you see fit, and he is to remain in the straight jacket, unless you ask me directly to release him. Understand?"

"Absolutely." Harley said, practically bouncing.

"Good." Joan said with a smile. "I'm so glad you're ready to take on Jonathan Crane once more. You really are a trooper taking his workload again."

"_What!?_"

0000

_Very __funny__, so goddamn _cute, _Joan__!_

Harley snarled and snapped at anyone who happened to look at her crossways as they walked past her in the hallway. She had to stalk through the high security cells to see Crane before their session that morning, but she was too mad to bother looking for the Joker. Oh she was gonna give him a piece of her mind!

She found the glass and tapped, tapped, _tapped_ until she heard his lazy shuffle across the padded floor to her. He looked upset...

_Welcome to the club asshole!_

"You dirtbag." she hissed. "Why'd you go and get caught?"

"Easy, you _left_ me there." he whispered through the small holes in the glass.

"You called me blonde." she muttered back.

"A figure of speech."

"I happen to _be_ blonde." she replied nastily and yanked on the long, pale hair over her shoulder.

"You know, technically it's called _platinum_. It's not even blonde, it's practically white. You're too....sensitive." he ended when he saw the look in her eye.

"I could seriously give two rat's asses about it." She finally gave up and sighed as she lowered her head, hands on her hips over the lab coat they made all females wear in the halls. With eyes closed she tapped her foot once.

It was a sign she was calm, Crane knew. If he wasn't so jealous of her, she'd be very attractive to him. But he hated it when people were more successful than him, smarter, or especially free to roam.

"Fine. I'll see you at ten." she said and left the cell.

Crane listened to her heels carry her away before he stopped leaning on the unbreakable plastic armrest of his cell and looked up.

A deep shiver of uneasiness laced up his spine as he finally noticed the Joker, sitting seemingly harmless in the other cell; watching Crane like a lion.

"She seems...nice." The scarred man said with a sarcastic grin. He obviously wanted to kill her.

"Yes, she is my psychologist. She's been..._helping_ me for about a year now."

The Joker smirked. "Think she can help me? I only just woke up so I didn't hear much, but she seemed angry at you." he feigned shock and laughed at his own antics.

"Just at my escape." Crane said slowly. "She thought she was getting to some breakthrough."

For some reason, Crane felt the need to protect his partner in crime. She was useful at stealing back his toxins while he was still preoccupied at Arkham, and he didn't need the Joker to start liking her too. He was a little bit protective anyways, after seeing her nearly every day for over a year. They fought like siblings, but they were good at stealing back his toxins together, too.

"Hmm." Joker hummed and jerked, startling Crane. "I know! Maybe, she'll have a erm-_breakthrough_ with _me_."

It was then that Jonathan began to get genuinely nervous about the whole situation.

If the Joker asked for Quinn, he'd be given her, after an intense argument by Joan. But when Harley sparked an interest in something, it was rare that she ever backed off or lost interest.

She will get Joker as a patient. She will be like a lamb to the slaughter.

oooo

"He wants to work with you, Quinzel." Crane barked as they began their session. Harley ignored him as she doodled on the paper pad she carried around. There, he felt it. That damn twitch just under his left eyebrow. "Quinn!"

She looked up boredly as she inspected her still red and black nails. _Damn forgot to clean them again.._

"Jonathan, what are you talking about?" she said tiredly. Not another month of his whining about toxins; she'd slit her throat first.

"Joker...the Joker is going to ask for you to be his psychologist." As expected, her eyes lit up with interest and he slammed a hand on the table. "No! No, no, concentrate Quinzel. He only wants you to harm you, even kill you."

"No he does not." she barked back. "He's never seen me here."

"He saw you this morning. He's my new cell mate across the block. He must be immune to some of the drugs cause they gave him enough to knock me out for three days, and only after a few hours he's right as rain."

"You're a pussy, plain and simple."

He frowned, noticed the little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Fine, get yourself killed. See if I care, _Doctor_."

"You do. Or you _will_ care." she said easily. "Who else is going to help you find the locations of the toxins? I have the last three places in writing. Those toxins are just waiting to be stolen back."

Jonathan looked like a baby that ate a hot pepper he was so mad. "You need to tell me. You'll be dead soon anyways."

"Oh, Johnny boy," she cooed as she stood up from her chair. "You really underestimate this Harley Quinzel."

He knew he did, but that didn't mean the Joker would as well.

oooo

He lied in his cell, with his back on the ground and a leg tossed up on the cot they had the audacity to call a bed. And they called _him_ crazy.

WIth nothing to fiddle with or stab, he twirled his thumbs together while he thought of plans for escape. Well, he rarely planned, but he would give in to the basic idea that you had to have at least some inkling of where to begin your escape.

He'd already set up one option and got it rolling. Dr. Harleen Quinzel, harmless little mouse. He would have her gutted and lying cold on the floor of the therapy room long before they'd realize he's even gone.

Joker cackled aloud, clutching his side as he got a crap, only to laugh all the more harder.

Clacks of boot heels on the hallways had him going quiet so he could jump up and sit on the 'bed'. Three of the guards who often showed up to detain him were all standing just outside of the glass prison with a taser and tranquilizers. And a straight jacket.

"I guess they're, ah, letting Dr. Quinzel see me now, huh?" he said with a dark look and a big smile, just to put the men out of ease. "I'm pretty lucky, eh?"

"Shut up, clown. Just behave and you can see your therapist soon."

"Goody..." he growled as the door opened to his cell. He figured he'd still be seeing her whether he behaved or not, so the Joker did what he did best and causing _bleeding_.

_........_

_Well, hoped you liked it. Please drop me a review or a message and let me know. thanks, _

_-ciao_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for reading, and favorite-ing please review!_

_............._

Chapter 3:

"I hope you understand what you're willingly throwing yourself into." Joan huffed as she struggled to keep up with the much shorter, yet surprisingly athletic woman at her side. "He's already maimed one nurse. She's one of our longest who has ever worked here. She was practically irreplaceable!"

"Believe me, I get it." the younger woman said and gave a thumbs up to the camera above. The buzzing sounded and she swiftly opened the door, ignoring Joan's continual warnings as the steel block closed behind her.

Harley raised her shoulders up, pushed her glasses back on her nose, and nodded to the guard awaiting her around the corner. She sailed into what the staff affectionately dubbed a 'therapy room' and stopped to adjust her paperwork. She thought it had been slipping.

She knew he was right in front of her; the room practically hummed with his unreleased energy. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run from it or cower in a corner. She did neither because it was Harley in charge, not Harleen.

"It's rude not to introduce yourself." he said from his seat. At his words, her eyes lifted from the papers and landed on the man safely strapped in a strait jacket. His face still had remnants of the greasepaint but he was no less foreboding without it. He looked more manic.

"Sorry, I have a little bit of OCD. Thought the papers were falling." she said with a conspiratorial smile.

"Oh, I understand," he replied, seeming at ease with his arms restrained as he leaned back on the chair. "I have one too...my knife has to have red on it or I get twitchy."

She couldn't stop the unprofessional smirk from escaping and she covered it up with a cough. "Well, that's an interesting one." she said as she settled herself in the chair across from him. She leaned forward, her eyes serious when she asked, "Why did you ask for me to handle your evaluations?"

"Crane, of course." he said, inclining his head. "He's so needy. He just can't live without his, ah, pointless fear toxins. But what fun is that? Nobody sees it coming that way." he said, seeming genuinely lost as he asked for the answer.

"Interesting...but anyone could snap right back at you and say that you live to cause chaos. That you _have_ to disrupt the lives of others."

"But mine is for the 'good' of the world. Crane is just plain obsessive." Joker said, as if he believed every word.

Harley considered herself a smart woman, so she pushed down the urge to correct him again. But the odds of him becoming angry took over her attitude.

"Well anyways," The Joker continued, "I thought it would put you in a better mood if you got to work with me!"

Harley sighed and looked at her hands resting flat on the table._ Really need to clean off the color...Its just another lead to my night life. _Then she heard the gruesome crack_._

She leapt up as Joker's arms flew from his restraints and he gasped as if it was a magic trick. She heard another sickening pop as he turned and slammed his dislocated shoulder into the wall, correcting it once more.

He seemed not to notice his pain when he began to practically dance around the table, laughing as she wielded her pen as best she could.

She could do backward handsprings from here to Christmas, but she was nothing against this demonic murderer. He was far too creative. Her gym classes couldn't help her out of this, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to use her bare hands against him like in she had in her karate classes. "Put your jacket back on and I'll forget you can free yourself."

"Very noble of you, Doc." he said and looked down at the jacket like an indignant child. "But I can't put it back on by myself silly!"

"Then sit back down!"

"Are you as pretty on the inside as your are on the outside?" he hissed suddenly.

"Joker!" she snapped and whipped her heavy note pad at his face. When his grungy, green hair flew back along with his head, she couldn't help a smirk of delight. Direct impact!

His head rolled back to position in which he faced her, and his eyes seemed to darken with something akin to annoyance and intrigue. "Come on, Doc, a note pad? What am I a a petty thief?" His snicker sent a chill up her spine. "Gimme something _really_ painful!"

In answer, she chucked one of her sharp-heeled pumps at him; another crack to the head. He began to wail with laughter as he leaned down, picking up the red shoe. "I gotta say, you have impeccable aim!"

"I've got more where that came from, buddy!" she hissed back. _Fuck this! I'll have to risk him biting my finger off._

Harley set herself into the practiced stance she used six days a week at her karate classes, kicking her remaining shoe behind. She could take him.

Joker's hands slammed up under the steel table and flipped it, using incredible strength that belied his slim appearance. The heavy object flying towards her didn't allow her time to think before she launched herself backwards in a flip to escape it.

It was then that Joker began to laugh deep with his belly. "Let me guess, you must have been quite the little gymnast?" He burst into another fit just as the guards rushed into the room. "Tell me your name, Doc." he goaded.

She stood up straight once more as the guards over powered the Joker and she sighed in defeat. "Harleen Quinzel, but I guess you can call me Harley. After all, you know my shoe size now."

His laughter chilled her to the bone, but at the same time sent a different kind of shiver down her spine. It felt _very_ good.

_Damn it! _She thought as she looked around for her shoes. He must have taken the one she threw. But even knowing he might use it later to stab one of the orderlies, she didn't care. Again he caught her attention, and she looked up stupidly in her opinion, only to have him wink and smile devilishly. Another sinfully sweet shiver deep down inside her...

_I think we just might be compatible; in the puzzle piece kind of way._

Puzzle piece? Damn, maybe she should break Crane out and take them to a bar. He wasn't much of a talker, or a listener for that matter, but he sure could toss back some whiskey. God knew she needed something with some zing after the close call.

With a bad temper building up, Harley left the room- barefoot- after the guards had left with their giggling ward and she headed straight to the break room after she went to her office for a spare set of shoes. At least some good old chocolate might help her settle down, whereas she'd have to wait a few more hours for that whiskey.

oooo

The Joker laughed as they tossed him back into his cell with his straightjacket on _extra_ tight. He rolled onto the floor and ended up sitting indian style while the guards shouted things like 'calm down!' and 'shut the hell up!'.

But he couldn't be bothered by them.

When the door bolted shut, he shimmed from out of his jacket the single red pump that he'd stolen from Harley. With a laugh he stood and kicked it under his bed so that the orderlies couldn't find it. Maybe he'd use it to stab Harley herself, he mused. Call that irony.

He snickered to himself as he lied down on the thin mattress and lied there quietly. He laid there for a full minute before he reached under the bed and snagged the shoe. Forget it, Harley was too much fun to kill just yet.

Maybe the nightshift nurse...

oooo

Harley practically kicked open the door to her house, scaring Hellion into a corner. She tossed her scarf on the pegs and hung her coat up before locking the door behind.

Almost instantly the phone rang and she stepped over, picking it off the receiver. "Hello?" she asked roughly, unable to keep her bad mood out of her voice.

"Um, Dr. Quinzel?" asked a timid voice over the line.

"This is she."

"Um...Doctor, The Joker just killed the nurse who brings in his nightly dose of medication, and he...ah," Harley swore she heard a hick, as if the girl was sobbing.

"Calm down and tell me."

"Doctor, The Joker killed him with a high heel...um, your red one. Dr. Arkham wanted to speak with you about it tonight. So, um, if you could come back---"

"No." Harley practically snarled the word. "No way. You tell Arkham that I drove a half hour to get home, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be blamed for this."

"Oh...uh, please just hold for a moment." Some shuffling and murmurs were heard over the line and Harley inspected her nails once more. _Really need to remove the paint!_

"Ah, Dr. Quinzel, Dr. Arkham concedes the fact that you must have been too shocked at The Joker's attack to realize the loss of your shoe, but he did want you to wear...ah, strapped heels, shoes or boots when working with The Joker."

She sighed and rubbed her temple where she felt a migraine coming on. "Alright. I'll figure something out for shoes then."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Yeah, sure thing." Harley couldn't resist the angry hiss as she slammed down the phone. "Bastard."

She went to her room, standing quietly in the doorway before she reached over and flicked the switch for her closet. It instantly flooded with artificial light, the glow landing on her custom-made red and black outfit. As she laid eyes on it, as she immediately felt better, lighter, and more at ease as she looked over every lovingly made stitch.

As Harley stood there, she thought of why she wore the outfit, why she embraced the night and the feelings associated with the fabric. It represented what she bloomed from, the blood and tears she'd spilled to become a survivor.

Unable to think about anything else, she stepped into the form fitting leather. Instantly she felt like she had control, more powerful than she ever felt she could if she hadn't had it made.

She felt safe and when she let out her darker side, her stronger side, she could do anything.

With that thought in mind, Harley was not surprised to have it mold into an image of the Joker. She had to admit, she felt some similarities between them.

They both had something to prove.

She was fighting to recover from the attack the year before...and she was succeeding, every time she put on her red and black suit. She was powerful.

The Joker obviously felt some need to control, maybe a product from a terrible past in which he had had none. She knew he wanted to cause what he called 'Chaos and Anarchy' and it made him feel powerful. His face paint as well, probably made him feel normal, just as Harley's suit did.

She smiled as she walked to her bathroom and looked at the makeup on her counter. She wouldn't have minded going _out on the town_ but she knew she'd need all of her energy to tango with Joker the next day. "Alright Mr. J," she said aloud as her cat zipped into the bathroom sneakily and stared at her from beside the toilet. "We're gonna be butting heads, Hellion. No doubt." she said and the cat hissed.

She frowned and looked back up into the mirror. "I hope he doesn't ever meet you or I'm going to have to find a taxidermist."

..............

_I didn't even realize that I forgot to mention in the first chapter that Harley's 'Harlequin' outfit is worn with white facial make-up and black lipstick. She has lots of heavy red eyeshadow, but Joker's influence eventually makes her use black markings around her eyes, much like an opera mask, I forget what they are called..._

_Anyway, thanks so much, and please review._

_-ciao_


End file.
